The dawn breaks on another chilly gray day in District 5. I sleep in, trying to get as much sleep as possible, since it is rare that we are allowed off of school or work. I manage to catch a few hours of sleep until I feel my father awakening me. It is 9:00 on the dot as I swing my legs out of the warm bedclothes and tramp downstairs, where breakfast is awaiting my sister and I. Isabelle is 10, I am 15.

Our mother left us when I was 7, Isabelle was 3. I still hate her, even though I have no idea where she could be. Rumour has it that she left to live in another district.

Breakfast is quiet, mainly because I am engrossed in my favourite author's latest book, The Last One Left. It's a mystery novel, and the suspense is killing me. We all finish, and we go to our own rooms to get ready. Reaping day is today, you know. I've survived for this long, just a few more years and I will be free to live my life. The only thing I will need to worry about is Isabelle's safety.

I begin to get ready, putting on my best dress—a black sleeveless knee-length with a silver sash. I put up my long, curly, brown hair, trying to tame it into a knot on top of my head. I eventually settle with it pushed back with a silver headband. I pull on black flats and go next door to get Isabelle. She looks perfect in a plaid skirt and a ruffled blouse, her straight blonde hair cascading down her back.

"Hey Annalise," she says, cocking her head at me. She has a worried look on her face, but then again everyone does at this time of year.

"Hey, Izy," I reply, hugging her.

"You both look beautiful," my dad says, coming out of his room. He has on a polo shirt and a pair of slacks, and there is sadness reflected in his eyes. He puts his arms around both of us and we walk out of the house together.

When we get to the North Crossroad, I kiss my sister and father goodbye and go to my friend Brady Mitchell's house. She and her twin brother, Damien, are in my grade at school. Brady and Damien are some of my best friends, and their mother often acts like a surrogate towards me. I go in through the back porch and up to Brady's room—declining a cookie from Mrs. Mitchell. I tap out our favorite song on the door with my finger nails, and enter when I hear a "Get in here and help me!"

I open the door to find Brady sitting at her vanity, attacking her thick auburn hair with a curling iron. I run in and take the curler from her and begin to fix the mess she has made.

"So…today's the day," Brady begins, sitting patiently as I make little ringlets cover her head.

"Yep. I'm glad Isabelle still has a few more years before she's reaped," I continue, brushing back one last curl and turning off the curler.

Brady looks in the mirror, brushes off the ruffles on her bright blue dress, and says, "Let's go."

We grab Damien and walk out to the square. Brady and Damien argue, even at this terrible time, about the pettiest things, making me laugh. We reach the square and move to the fifteen-year-old section. I see Dad and Isabelle in the back, standing together, looking worried. I see Isabelle talking to her friend, Jaylyn, who is noticeable because of her sly expression and her bright orange hair. I don't have any tesserae in, but the chances of being picked are still high, seeing as District 5 has one of the lowest populations. I look up to the stage, where our escort—a tall man with dark skin and curly green hair—sits chatting with our mayor. Our mentors sit off to the side, looking quiet. She has long, wavy brown hair and big amber eyes, and her name is Diana Jennings. The male isn't there, and I suppose that he is drunk somewhere, knowing that he turned to alcohol after his Games.

"God, this is so boring. I want to be back in my studio, painting," Damien complains, groaning.

"You say that all the time," Brady says, playfully shoving him. He goes to retort, but the mayor has stood up and began the customary speech about the Games. I tune most of it out. Then the escort stands up. His name is Lignus Viridis, and yes, he looks much like a tree. He looks quieter than the average escort, but he still has a big grin on his face. He talks smoothly and his voice is deep.

"Happy 73rd Hunger Games!" he announces, his voice magnifying through the microphone. "Ready to hear this year's tributes?"

The crowd mumbles, but most are silent.

He walks towards the first glass ball. He reaches in and digs out a piece of paper after an achingly long time.

"And our female tribute is…Annalise Durrien!"

My heart stops. Brady stifles a shriek, and then squeezes my shoulder as I force myself to walk up to the stage. I don't want to leave Izy and Damien and Brady and The Last One Left here in District 5.

By the time I make it up through the crowd, Lignus has made it to the boy's ball. I sit down just as he pulls out the second slip of paper.

"Our male tribute for District 5 is…Damien Mitchell!" the escort announces enthusiastically, waving the paper in the air. I look over at Brady and see her bawling in the middle of the section as Damien makes his way up to the stage. I feel terrible empathy for her, even knowing what I will be put through. I rise, and Damien and I stand together on the stage, our wrists held up in the customary fashion by Lignus.

"Happy Hunger Games, District 5, and may the odds be ever in your favour!"